


Secret Supply

by felixies



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8367295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixies/pseuds/felixies
Summary: Sherlock has been hiding out for months after his faked death back at St. Bart's Hospital. His cabin fever is getting more intense. Your patience is growing thin. A dispute over cigarettes pushed you two to the edge.





	

"Sherlock! Give me back my sword!"

"Not unless you go and get me cigarettes!" you have enough of Sherlock's pacing around the flat. It has been two months since he faked his own death and he cannot go out in public for fear of being caught. You have seen Sherlock freak out before, many times over, when he went a week without a case. 

Two months has passed and he is constantly going through your and Molly's stuff. Molly gave up a long time ago resisting his raids in her room, but you have not. One day when you come back from work, you spot Sherlock twiddling with your bamboo sword. You do not think much of what you see. Two weeks ago he discovered your sword deep in your closet and has since kept it by his side. 

“But I’ve never seen you fight,” Sherlock says whipping the sword around.

“I was part of a kendo club,” you explain. “I kept it as a souvenir.”

“Should test out your skills with real swords,” Sherlock offers. “I know a blacksmith.”

“Of course you do,” you supply.

He has not left the flat for some time now and needs stuff to do. You greet him, but he does not respond, looking like he is deep in thought. His mouth moves, but his utterances go unheard. You shrug off his lack of greeting and heads to your bedroom.

You stand at the doorway, stunned at the sight before you. Your room is completely disheveled. Books strewn on the ground, blankets taken off the bed, and clothes thrown all over the room. The frames of photos and posters are taken down. This is the last straw.. 

You run towards Sherlock and shout, "What the hell did you do to my room?" It takes all your effort not to deck him in the face.

"I was trying to find your cigarettes," Sherlock responds. Your face burns red with anger.

"I don't smoke, you idiot!"

Sherlock explains, "Molly told me you to hide a pack in case I go over the edge."

"You could have at least put everything back the way it was!" you angrily yell.

"Your organization is laughable. I thought this was the best way for you to fix it," Sherlock says. "I couldn't find them anyway." 

He points the sword at your throat. "I need some. Get me some."

Bubbling anger burst through you. "No! Especially not after the hurricane you created in my room! Go in there and organize it yourself!"

"If I do that will you get me a pack?" Sherlock asks desperately.

"No! I'm only getting more nicotine patches. Go clean up the mess you made!" You point to your room, but Sherlock does not budge. "Don't make me force you in there. I've restrained you and brought you to your knees before. I can do it again." You both stare at each other. Sherlock rolls his eyes, drops the sword, and shuffles to your room. You grab the sword and use it to make sure he goes in there. Sherlock starts picking up the books and shelving them back in alphabetic order and genre.

"I don't know why Molly said you had a pack of cigarettes anyway. I thought they were for me when I get annoying," Sherlock says.

"You heard wrong," you confess. "She found cigarettes in my room. She made me tell her why I had a pack."

Sherlock stops what he's doing and examines you. He observes, "You don't have the marks of a regular smoker. The discoloration on your fingers are fresh, estimating two months. You occasionally smoke. What's your reason?"

You look away and do not answer. Sherlock spots a book lying underneath your bed. He takes it out and opens it. The cigarette pack is hidden inside and he takes it out to show to you. You quickly head towards Sherlock, but before you could snatch them away, he holds it away from your reach. He opens it and sees there are two cigarettes left. He looks at the box and sees that it was recently purchased.

"Give them back to me!" you demand.

"You just bought this pack and already you're down to two. I never see you smoke, nor smell it."

"I go outside. You know, the place you can't get to right now," you sarcastically say.

"Tell me why you do it," Sherlock demands.

"Fine! I do it because...it helps me to...relax..." you hesitate on the last word and look down. "When I smoke, I get that swimming feeling like how I would get when I..." you blush.

Sherlock starts to lower his hand down. "When you what exactly?"

You are unable to speak your mind until you look up at him. "When I get off..." Sherlock realizes what you means. He immediately looks away. "I knew I shouldn't have told you. I'm not as strong as you to give in."

Sherlock tries to answer, "I don't - I mean I can see why - I mean can't you just...take care of it yourself?

You blush more and quietly say, "It's not the same..."

His brain quickly spouts out information. "It's just about hitting the right points on your body to peak yourself into orgasm that can be achieved with or without someone. People have used objects or hands to do it." He sees you incredibly embarrassed at such pillow talk. 

"You make it sound so methodical and boring," you finally say. "Sex is physical, emotional, primal. Touching and being touched makes the experience so much more pleasing. Seeing the other person join their body with your own, over and over again." Your breath gets a little heavier with every word. You realize the closeness to Sherlock, but he doesn’t budge. You move away. "Sorry."

I should find other ways to get my frustrations out than smoking." You start placing the bedsheets back and picking up your clothes to fold them. 

He says, "Please let me do that. I caused you enough stress."

"It's okay. I want to do this." You hurriedly folds your clothes and put them back in your bureau. Sherlock sees how clumsy are your hands. You are twitchy and constantly moves about. He has seen this behavior before, with him. He being cooped up and without a case to distract him has left his mind racing. He would do anything to get the stress out of him. 

He walks up to you with your back turned, looking at your frame. He thinks back to you sleeping on his bed with him and the few moments where they kissed to keep up a cover for cases. He has never been afraid of physical touch towards and from another person. Usually he is able to control the situation and do whatever it takes to get what he wants. However, every time he is with you, he feels awkward and idiotic, nervous and confused.

Sherlock whispers your name. You jump and turn quickly around. His close proximity causes you to slam back into the bureau. 

Your breathing is quick. His mind is still on those moments with you and his hand unconsciously moves over to the side of your face. Your breath hitches when you feels his touch. Hearing your breath causes him to pull you closer to him.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" you quietly asks. You don't object to what he is doing. You see him moving closer to you, lips so close from touching. "Please tell me you're not just messing with me."

"You need to get the stress out and so do I. I need this as much as you do. Please." Sherlock confessing has thrown you off guard. You see in his eyes that he is being honest. Lips meet and arms wrap instantly around each other. Sherlock pins you against the bureau, pressing himself onto you hard. You let out a little moan in between kisses and runs your hand through his hair. He lifts you up so he can straighten out. Still pinned against the bureau, you wrap your legs around Sherlock's hips to prevent from falling. Through the fabric, you can feel his erection pressed against you. You uncontrollably wriggle with the sensation, causing Sherlock to let out a low moan. He never gave into such passions until now and does not hold back. He takes you over to your bed. With your back on the bed and him hovering above you, he starts kissing your neck and groping your breast over your shirt. You pull his shirt off and kiss his chest. You roll him over and kiss his lips. His hands roam around your body, pulling your shirt and bra off. He sits up with you still on his lap and kisses down your body, taking his time sucking and nibbling on your nipples. You can’t hold the moans escaping your mouth. Hearing your sounds of pleasure spurns him to do more, but you quickly shoves him back to the bed. 

You lightly suck on his earlobe as you place a hand in his trousers, feeling his cock. The combination of touches causes his breath to hitch and grasp your ass. You laugh a little and move down his body, hearing his moans every so often, until you reach his cock. You tease him a little, a lick here and there, moving your hand up and down. "Do it," Sherlock says as he moves a hand behind your head.

"Do what?" you teasingly ask.

Sherlock takes in a breath before saying, "Take me in your mouth. Please," Sherlock begs. Without a single thought, you take his cock in your mouth. He instantly moans and grips tight onto the bedsheets. With every movement, with every tongue flick, his brain slowly shuts off and gives in to the moment. His breathing quickens and you move off him to kiss his lips. Without thinking, he plants you back onto the bed, and removes the final two pieces of clothing you wear. He returns the favor, licking and sucking on your wetness. Just as you gave him pleasure, he causes you to moan, but you stifle it. He laughs at your attempt to muffle your voice, but he pins down your wrists. "I want to hear you cry out for me," he says. He uses his tongue to flick your clit, making you moan loudly. This propels him to do more. You get wetter and wetter with every touch. Just like you did, he moved away to prevent you to orgasm. 

He moves up to your face and kisses your lips, their tongues encircling and tasting each other. When they break their kiss, both of you are panting hard. You can feel his cock touching your pussy, wanting entrance. Sherlock realizes what you’re about to do and quickly asks, "Shouldn't we, um, have some sort of protection?" 

You smile. "Don't worry about that. I'm on the pill." You look into his eyes and teasingly asks, "Would you like to have dinner?"'

Sherlock answers back with a smile, "I'm not hungry."

"Me neither," you say. He enters you, quickly gasping their breath. He grasps the pillows on your sides as you grasp his back. He starts moving in and out, with each push their moans get louder and louder. Your eyes roll back and closes them. 

"No, I want you to look at me while you get pleasure from this," Sherlock commands. You open your eyes and feels the tautness of his arms holding him up. You wraps your legs around him once more and the movements quickly deepened. He can feel you clenching around him, ready for the release.

"I’m so close. Go harder. I can take it," you say between your panting. Sherlock gives it all he got. Your obscenities towards God and shouting his name sets him off and together they release themselves to each other.


End file.
